


The Inquisition's Command

by Kimanaio



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7651405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimanaio/pseuds/Kimanaio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and stories pertaining to the Cullen/Astraea Trevelyan relationship- With a brief introduction from Varric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

> "When Cassandra suggested I write a book about the Inquisition, (although she'll deny it vehemently,) she struck on something I'd been contemplating already. I'd watched Dandelion- er, Astraea- grow from a naive young thing to a full-fledged Inquisitor. If you'd have told me I'd be writing the tales of the Inquisition in the context of a love story though, well, I'd call bullshit. But here we are, and here's this book of ideas in front of me, snippets of plot waiting to be strung together like lanterns at a festival. Really though, I thought I'd gotten this nonsense out of my system with  _Swords and Shields_. I guess not."

\- Varric Tethras, referencing a heavily worn, leather bound journal lying on the table between him and his publisher, a steaming cup of tea resting next to it on the stained wood.


	2. Emerald Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eyes are the window to the soul, they say. Or in this case, a flashlight.

Astraea charged with the soldiers through the valley, aware of how Cassandra stood guard between her and the armored men. She felt the seething hatred from their eyes like knives in her back, saw the flickering beginnings of hope in others. They were unsure of her, how she played into the jumbled puzzle pieces that had become life after the explosion, but none moreso than Astraea herself. As her boots crunched against the snow and gravel, the young noblewoman found herself contemplating what the  _hell_ had landed her in the middle of this mess and why she couldn't have just died with the rest of her men. Her heart panged- her men. The guards that she'd grown up with, Osharn and Tagrin and every soldier that accompanied her, all dead. She dreaded the look of Osharn's daughter's face, the little girl so proud of her father, so enamored with Astraea's horses, when she heard of his death. Varric snapped Astraea back to reality when they hit the last stop before the ruined temple.

"Hey, redhead, think you'll really be able to close the Breach? It's a long way up," the dwarf asked, nearly jogging to keep pace with the six-foot woman.

"The least I can do is try," she sighed grimly, slowing her steps as the gate loomed ahead. Varric nodded in response, and they regarded the area with curiosity. Solas had already stopped to examine their potion supplies while Cassandra arranged the final push towards the temple; a rift stood in their way, the torn Veil reacting violently to Astraea's mark. Varric watched her has she glared at the swirls across her palm, her hand trembling from the energy within.

"You know your eyes glow, right?" He guessed she didn't, because her face dropped into shock.

"They  _what?"_ She gasped, blinking and going cross-eyed as if she could see it for herself. 

"They're green like the mark, and they flicker whenever it does. It's creeping me out," Varric replied, a tinge of humor to his words. It was lost on Astraea, apparently, as she blanched and all but sobbed her reply.

"This is ridiculous, I can't handle glowing eyes! Maker, I look like a monster, don't I?"

"No no, it's kind of neat. You'll make a great first impression on people. I bet the Seeker wishes she had glowing eyes, they'd match her draconic personality!" Varric was loud enough to catch Cassandra's attention, and the woman spat a disgusted sound towards the dwarf. "Cheer up, sweetheart. You look fine," he reassured, and Astraea nodded halfheartedly, unconvinced.

Cassandra and Solas approached the two, apparently pleased with their preparations. "We are going to move forward during a lull in the rifts' activity. Our Commander and his forces are fighting off the demons, but if we charge now, we'll be slaughtered on the approach," Cassandra stated, no room for argument in her voice.

"We won't have much time between the activity, so we'll have to move qui-" What words Solas had to add were lost as an explosion rocked the gate before them, the wooden doors flying open as a body broke through the lock. Cassandra pushed Astraea away from the blast, Solas' barrier sparking to life over their skin as the peppermint taste of magic danced on Astraea's tongue.

"Go now!" Orders were shouted, and into the fray they charged, desperation fueling Astraea's battle-fury.

 

The rift would not be so kind as to wait for their plans, it seemed.

 

* * *

 

The rift was making Cullen sick to his stomach, the bitter magic making his templar-trained sense recoil. He found himself wishing he had lyrium at the moment, but quashed the thought as a Terror burst from the earth nearby, talons slashing through the air. His shield took the blow, metal biting into the leather of his armor, and he cursed- The blow was hard enough to tear something. To his left a soldier took out a wraith, their attention turning to their commander and assisting in taking out the spindly, nightmarish creature that towered over him.

"Where is Cassandra, she should be here by now!" Cullen grunted as he parried a blow and bashed his shield into the Terror. 

"We don't know ser, her party is- oof!" the soldier was knocked backwards, leaving the commander on his own again. Another shriek accompanied a surge in nausea in his stomach, and Cullen knew another Terror had surfaced. He had just enough time to get a visual on it when arrows sprouted from the thing's face. Leliana had arrived, he thought, turning back to his target with renewed confidence. He made short work of the beast once more arrows had pierced its wrinkled hide, but the call that came shortly after didn't come from the spymaster.

"Shields up!" A feminine voice called, and he instinctually followed the command, steel rising to block whatever blow was coming. An explosive arrow hissed over his head into a nearby Shade and splattered the earth with the black sludge in its veins, shrapnel bouncing off of his shield. A red-haired woman came vaulting over the ledge, but it wasn't Leliana. Cullen recognized the prisoner, with Cassandra, Varric, and the elf called Solas following her. He was confused, but thankful for the aid. The prisoner skidded to his side to evade another demon, the last on the field, and Cullen sliced the thing's head off before it could attack her.

"Thanks," she gasped, and he noticed her eyes were actually shining the color of the rift- it was stunning and terrifying at once. (He wanted to see more, though.)

The woman dropped her bow and leveled her left hand a the rift, feet firmly planted as she focused on the tear in the Veil. A grimace crossed her face as green magic burst forth towards the rift, the bitterness of the tear mingling with the sharp, sour taste of the mark. Dissonance wracked the field as the rift seemed to scream in protest, and with a fierce growl, the prisoner pulled it shut. Cullen stared at her with wonder and caution as she shook her arm, a shudder running along her spine. Cassandra seemed relieved as she joined them, a hand resting on the taller woman's shoulder to calm her. 

"Cassandra, I'm glad you arrived when you did. My thanks for closing that rift," he said, inclining his head in greeting.

"I am not the one who closed the rift- thank Astraea," the Seeker responded, gaze flitting to Astraea. The woman was breathing heavily, eyes dulling to a gentle flicker, and her gaze was trained on Cullen.

He met her look with one of his own, and she blinked quietly as she waited for his response. "Then thank you. Maker knows how long we'd have lasted against it," he said, pleased with the small grin that crossed her face.

"You're welcome. I'm just glad I can help," Astraea replied breathlessly, her voice distinctly Free-Marcher, and Cullen could tell the Mark took its toll on her. 

"I'm taking my men back to camp- the injured need assistance. Close the Breach, for all our sakes." He glanced at Astraea once more, then ran to help a limping soldier. There was something about the woman that piqued his attention, but it would have to wait.


	3. Jab and Parry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric's writing has some undue influences.

"We should approach the templars for assistance, they have the control necessary to close the Breach," Cullen insisted, but Leliana shook her head. 

"The mages would be more helpful- the Breach is a magical matter, and they're best suited to handling it," she retorted, the argument continuing. Astraea had been following the conversation as the advisors and Cassandra had fought to come to a consensus, but it seemed no solution would be reached. Leliana and Josephine both seemed to favor the mages, while Cullen and Cassandra were adamant about Templar intervention. The group squabbled until Cassandra turned to Astraea, asking for her opinion. The Herald raised an eyebrow, pleased to finally speak.

"I think the mages would be fine allies. They would certainly boost the power of the Inquisition, should we succeed," she mused, casually turning a crow figurine from the war-table in her hand. 

Cullen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Herald, mages are dangerous. If we sided with the templars, we could even help keep apostates in check-"

"Oh, keep the apostates in check? Is that what the Inquisition is to be? Glorified templars?" She inquired, tone slightly hostile. She'd read 'Tale of the Champion' and she knew that the Commander was distrustful of mages. (She didn't seem to understand that writing was just that- writing- and not meant to account for real facts. Leliana knew this, and could see where the situation was heading.) "My brother is a mage, and he deserves the freedom to walk without a Templar holding his leash." 

"That wasn't what I meant," Cullen frowned, "We are not acting on behalf of the Chantry, we will not be templars. If you saw the state of the Hinterlands, perhaps you'd reconsider your stance on unwatched apostates." 

Astraea pursed her lips, arms crossed, and turned her attention to the map. "The Hinterlands are in turmoil as much for the actions of rebelling templars as they are because of mages. I'd advise your personal bias not cloud the actions of the Inquisition."

"Per- Personal bias?" He was incredulous, and even more upset that she was getting under his skin. Cullen was beginning to get a migraine from dealing with Astraea, and he wondered if she really was just a pretty, bratty noble with no real-world experience. Hopefully her time in the field would change that.

Astraea was getting angry, her diplomatic training slipping. Her elder brother's status as a mage made her extremely sensitive of the subject, and Varric's tales of the mistreatment of mages in Kirkwall made her all the angrier. "Yes, _personal bias._ I'm sure your time in Kirkwall reinforced your idea of mages-" 

"That is enough." Leliana's firm voice cut through the argument, drawing everyone's attention. "Whether we personally support mages or templars, we have no power or sway in reality. Neither group will speak to us- we are too young, too small. A revered mother in the Hinterlands has agreed to assist us- give us names, faces, information. I suggest you travel there, Herald, and see what influence you can create for the Inquisition. When we are powerful enough to garner allies, then we can argue all day. I have work to do, and you must prepare. This meeting is over."

There was tension between Cullen and Astraea in the days following. She would find herself watching the man train the recruits, her admiration of his dedication soured. Cullen would feel her eyes and turn to find her glancing away, and he felt a small knot of anger in his chest- he was sick of noblemen and their games.

The day of Astraea's departure, she reluctantly realized she'd need a debriefing on the actions of Inquisition soldiers in the area. Dressed in new armor and a slight attitude, the Herald strode over to the Commander with an idea forming in her head of what he would say.  _'We're eradicating mages and supplying the templars to gain allegiance. The townsfolk are glad to see the apostates gone.'_ She mimicked his tone mentally, a frown forming, and she had to wonder a moment what else she could make the voice in her head say.  _'I'm a stubborn arse, I'm not willing to see things from an outside perspective, you're wrong and I'm right.'_ She snorted in amusement, accidentally catching Cullen's attention as she approached. He turned to find the source of the sound, the morning light catching on his armor as Astraea was struck for a moment by how regal he looked- like a proper Commander, not the irate templar she usually imagined. It gave her pause, as did the mages training alongside foot-soldiers.

"Ah. Herald," he greeted flatly, his lips forming a thin line. He was still sore from her jab about personal bias, something he'd tried very hard to put aside when he joined the Inquisition, and even before, when Meredith's death had left him in charge of the Gallows.

"Commander," she replied, a terse nod hiding her moment of softness. "I need to know the orders our soldiers are under in the Hinterlands. Scout Harding said nothing of it in her report," Astraea stated, her gaze avoiding his as she surveyed the recruits. Cullen raised an eyebrow- he read those reports, and while the details were sparse, he knew there was at least a brief mention of the activity. Perhaps Leliana had slimmed it down for her.

"They're currently protecting the townsfolk and their land at any cost. Any mages or templars sympathetic to their plight or the cause of the Inquisition are being recruited- we won't turn away any help we can get. There are rebel mages and templars alike that are refusing to concede to the Inquisition, however, but we're using any and all forces available to eradicate them. The goal was to secure Mother Giselle, but I believe our men our doing a great deal of good there. The most recent birds report that the mages are healing ailments that were plaguing refugees," Cullen included the last bit to appease Astraea. He may not like her attitude, but he couldn't deny her conviction. He saw her pause, lips parted as if to say something, then close them again. 

"Good," she remarked, lost in thought. She wondered if eradicating the rebels was a good idea- they might be reasoned with. "I'm glad the Inquisition has opened its arms to both peaceful parties. Thank you. May I ask why we're attacking potential hostiles with such... force? Would it not be more wise to approach at least one party for assistance?" 

Cullen shook his head, pleased that the usual edge of hostility had fallen from her voice. "Herald, may I ask you something?"

"Hm?" Astraea was caught off guard- she cocked her head to the side, one eyebrow raising.

"Were your lands ever attacked in the Free Marches?" 

"Yes, once or twice. Large groups of bandits." She was unsure of where he was going, his guarded expression not giving anything away.

"Did you ever attempt to reason with them, for an alliance?" He asked, fighting to hide a smirk- his point was going to be good.

"Well... No. They were attacking our home. We eliminated them swiftly," Astraea admitted, drawing the parallels herself.

"Then you must understand why we're fighting off the apostates and templars. They're attacking the homes and land of the villagers, and should be treated as bandits would. To attempt to reason with them would be profoundly naive." He saw her shoulders fall in a sigh, his point hitting home as she nodded in response. He felt, for a brief moment, like he was dealing with one of his recruits, still fresh-faced and excited for the rush of battle. Her eyes flitted to his for a moment, finally maintaining contact for more than a moment. "You've never seen the likes of a real war, have you?" Cullen asked, purposefully keeping anything remotely antagonistic from his voice.

"I-" she paused, taking a breath. "No." It was painful to admit, but the only battlefields Astraea had experienced were on her own estate. Ostwick was isolated from much of the mage-templar war, the Circle there stable and unwilling to rebel- they were fearful after Kirkwall.

"Then you don't know what we're dealing with. Sometimes... people do not want peace. Once you have become accustomed to war, living in peace can be unimaginable. I hope what you find in the Hinterlands will show you that sometimes swords work better than words."

 

 

 


	4. The More Things Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astraea grows a great deal in a short period of time.

Astraea all but sprinted down the hill and into the small village as apostates and templars converged on the area, her companions close behind- Varric was yelling at her to slow down.

"Mages, please, we are not templars! We do not seek to fight!" she shouted as she nocked an arrow, stance defensive against the group of apostates. Their leader stared her down, and she gathered that her offer to speak was rejected as a lightning bolt arced from his staff. She darted to the side, waiting for the shimmering taste of Solas' barrier, but no magic came- Cassandra called out in fear, and the bolt of electricity hit Astraea in the shoulder. Static sparked over her armor as the taste of copper bloomed in her mouth, ears ringing, vision blurred; she hit the ground hard. Her breath came in gasps for a moment, the light dimming around her as Cassandra formed a wall with her shield to block any other attacks. Solas' barrier finally enveloped her, soft sweet mint replacing the metal on her tongue.  _'Cullen was right,_ ' she thought bitterly,  _'Negotiation in this situation is naive indeed.'_  The thought made her laugh, and Astraea stood, anger and conviction clearing her head. She sparked a fuse using her armor and aimed an explosive arrow, her eyes blazing green and yellow as the same light shimmered from her hand over the wood of her bow. This was not going to have a peaceful end.

The aftermath of the battle left Astraea sitting on a rock near the small waterfall that cascaded through the village. Her hands rested softly on her knees, all the rage and pain from the fight slowly slipping away as the sound of water bubbling nearby calmed her spirit. "What the fuck just happened?" she murmured, observing Inquisition troops rummaging through bodies for supplies, scavenging weapons. The last time she'd been in a fight like this, it was from horseback, raised above the mess. When it was over, she'd simply... left. Left the Trevelyan house guards to clean up the remains, left the blood and the corpses, the quiet emptiness that hung in the air thicker than the scent of death. It was sobering. She refocused as movement caught her attention; Solas was picking his way through the mess, making his way towards Astraea with a pensive expression.

"You seem disquieted," he noted, coming to a stop by her perch. He was a grounding presence, the distinct taste of his magic ever-present in the air around him.

"This is... I don't know what words would describe it. Novel? Utterly terrifying?" She gestured helplessly, the metal of her armored gloves clinking as she dropped them to the stone beneath her.

Solas nodded, understanding her sentiment. He could not recall the first time he saw bloodshed, but the feeling remained- revulsion, sadness, anger. "It is difficult to handle, no matter how many times one witnesses violence," the elf conceded. He was worried for Astraea, for in his experience, leaders needed the constitution to handle the realities of war. 

"I just need time," she said, "time and... practice, I guess."

 

* * *

 

 

The killing wasn't difficult. Finding the trinkets and notes and personal effects was the hard part. For every carved figurine Astraea found in the pockets of a dead man, she felt her heart lurch. Mother Giselle had warned her that the violence would be painful, but she found herself unprepared for each love letter, ring, or family sword that found its way into her hands. It was a clear morning in the Dusklight camp, as it had come to be called, when she decided to catalogue the items and attempt to return them to their places of origin. Already she'd returned letters to family and lovers, but it felt strange just selling the carved griffins and jade trinkets that jingled in her pouch as she hiked through the Hinterlands. One carving in particular caught her eye- a wooden mabari, heavy and cool in her hands. It bore rough, swirling markings, Kaddis, as she'd heard locals call the paint. Astraea turned the figurine over in her hands, recalling her admiration of the connection between Fereldens and their war-dogs; it reminded her a great deal of how she felt about her horses. The thought brought back memories of home, and she found herself wondering if it was time to write home, even though Josephine insisted on taking care of most communications. 

"Ah. I should probably send back a report for Josephine and Leliana. And the Commander, though I'm sure they're all more informed about what I've been up to than I am," she muttered to herself, imagining them arguing around the war table as she reached for parchment and her quill. She tapped the soft feather against her chin as she debated how to start the letter. Advisors? Address them by name? Title? ' _Varric would know,'_ she thought, and was once again struck by how wholly unqualified she was for this.

 

> "Sister Leliana, Lady Josephine, Commander Cullen,
> 
> I hope this letter finds you well. The Hinterlands have been more of a challenge than expected, physically and mentally. The rogue templars and apostates have been eliminated, and we have arranged a deal with Horsemaster Dennet. The man should be more than willing to supply the Inquisition with proper mounts in exchange for some favors- we've already dealt with one, and the watchtowers he requested are marked with cairns. I will enclose a map as to where they need to be built. I'm sure our soldiers can do so quickly. I have come to some revelations in my month here, many of which should come as no surprise. War is hellish, as I'm sure you all know far better than I, but it is something I am better for experiencing. I hope that I am not so quick to harsh words when we next meet. To the Commander, you were correct. Words are not as adept at piercing armor as swords, I concede. Leliana, I have a scout that should be returning to you with this report- her name is Ritts, and she has a silver tongue- charmed a mage into a particularly vulnerable position. Josephine, Commander, I have acquired the assistance of a 'Lord Berand,' who's pledged to dedicate his forces to assist us. Perhaps his noble connections could be useful to us as well. Besides that, I believe a High Dragon is nesting nearby, but it has ignored our presence for now. I plan to return to Haven shortly, and we are stocking up for the ride back. It is time to address the clerics in Val Royeaux. 
> 
> Regards- Lady Astraea Madeleine Trevelyan"

 

She signed her name with a flourish, the ink splattering across the bottom of the page and onto the wooden table, and she sighed. That always happened. The blotches spread their spidery black tendrils for a moment more, then settled into the page as she blew on them to dry. She folded the page and tucked the small map Cassandra had sketched the day before into it, tying a bit of twine around the parchment. 

"Ritts!" The Herald called as she wandered the camp, summoning the elf to her side. 

The scout all but scrambled from her perch on a nearby rock, breathlessly answering Astraea's call. "My lady?" 

"Are you and your companions ready to set out back to Haven? I don't want you to have any trouble making it," she asked, genuinely concerned. The trip wasn't particularly long, but the Inquisition had enemies.

"We'll be alright ser, thank you. Is this your report?" Ritts was curious, her pretty olive eyes sparkling. She was going to be an excellent spy, Astraea thought. Those eyes would see everything. Astraea nodded, and Ritts bid her farewell. As she mounted her horse and galloped out of the ravine, Astraea imagined her own trip back- it would be good to be in a real bed again.

 


	5. An Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet moment- a mending of bridges.

Haven's training grounds were loud with the cacophony of clanging blades and shouting soldiers. Astraea had taken a brief moment of free time to evaluate the recruits, and now that she'd seen how well Inquisition soldiers performed in the field, she was curious as to what actually went into training the men and women that formed the bulk of the Inquisition. A few lieutenants were rounding up different groups of trainees- sword and shield, archers, cavalry- they all seemed well-disciplined. She made a mental note to drop by the archery trainers at some point and see if she could learn, or teach, a thing or two. What caught her eye, however, were the obvious newcomers that formed shaky ranks in front of Commander Cullen. Her respect for the man had grown since her return to Haven, and their few conversations had each been slightly less antagonistic than the last. She was beginning to understand his perspective, and he was treating her less like a child and more like an equal. The respect was in its infancy, but Leliana and Josephine had both pointed out that it was for the best.

She watched from a distance as Cullen addressed the men and women, his rumbling voice clear even at a distance. She recalled what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of his quieter talks, and knew they'd be shaking in their boots at this lecture. His speech seemed to be going well, a tirade on the importance of putting on a good face for the Inquisition, dedication to the cause, protection of their home, and he seemed quite in his element until a young girl came running into the group, lining up in the front row between two young men. She mimicked their stance, feet wide, shoulders squared. It was enough to make Astraea laugh. She wandered closer to see how Cullen would react, expecting him to send her off.

"Recruit! You're late for training." She heard him bark, and a grin broke across her face.

"Sorry ser! Mum didn't want me to go!" The girl didn't flinch as Cullen loomed over her, dark hair falling in pigtails to her back as she stared up at him.

"What's your name, soldier? Why do you want to be a member of the Inquisition?" He asked, humoring her. He'd noticed the Herald's presence, nodding to her subtly in acknowledgement. The group around them was smiling, taking their cue from Astraea, who had approached and was watching close by. Other villagers had taken to watching the spectacle as well, a group of young women eyeing Cullen's actions closely. A twinge of anger and jealousy sparked through Astraea's head, and she had to catch herself- she had no right to feel that way. Still, his disregard of their presence satisfied her.

The girl took a deep breath, and she began to speak at an astonishing rate. "I'm Berrinda, but everyone calls me Berry. My Da was a mage at the Conclave, Mum said he wanted to have peace with the templars. I like them, they're strong an' tall. Da said they're supposed to do good, just like the mages. He said he was gonna talk to the Divine an' make everyone stop fighting. Mum said he died protecting the Divine from demons, an' I wanna fight demons like Da did an' help people." Astraea felt her heart break at the words, a knot forming in her throat. She was nervous when the girl mentioned mages though, and she was curious about Cullen's reaction.

The Commander softened as she watched, his shoulders relaxing as he knelt to meet the girl's eyes. "Your father was a brave man, Berrinda, and you're brave too. Without people like him, we'd have no Inquisition. Now, let's get you a sword and shield," he stated seriously, and Astraea was shocked- he was acting so much differently than she'd expected, and in that moment, she realized he was a genuinely good person. It warmed her heart, even more so when he found a wooden practice dagger and a small shield for her to hold. The girl struggled with the shield, but she seemed eager to learn, and he made sure she practiced techniques right alongside the new recruits. Astraea spent a great deal of time watching them train, and when Berrinda's mother, Emeryn, approached, Astraea struck up a conversation.

"Your daughter is good with a sword," Astraea joked after introductions, and Emeryn nodded. 

"She's always been a scrapper. One moment she was playing with her baby brother, and the next, I see her running off to play soldier. It was a fine thing for the Commander to humor her," she sighed, carefully watching her daughter bounce her wooden weapon against a soldier's thigh. 

"He's a good man," Astraea mused, her own gaze following Cullen. "Better than his reputation."

"It takes a strong will to overcome expectations, my lady. If I may be bold enough to offer a mother's advice, I'd recommend you face the road ahead without preconceptions. You'll go much farther that way." Emeryn was respectful in her words, but Astraea appreciated them.

"Thank you. I appreciate any help I can get," she bowed her head, then added "About your husband... If you ever lack for anything, please tell me. I have no desire to see the victims of this senseless violence suffer, and I want to help." She watched Emeryn's dark eyes flit to her own, pride and need conflicting as she considered her response.

"I will tell you. If you truly want to help, Herald, end this war. I do have to return home for dinner, and Berry needs rest. Good evening, my Lady." Emeryn called Berrinda, who was sad to go, but Cullen let her keep the sword and shield. She skipped off with her mother towards the village, and Astraea noticed how the morale of the soldiers seemed lifted- even Cullen was wearing a small smile. It suited him. Her train of thought was interrupted by a runner who stopped at her side, a grave look on his face. 

"A message, ser. New information from our scouts in Orlais, Nightingale thought a meeting would be wise. I'm to fetch you and the Commander, tell you to go to the war room." 

Astraea sighed, her thoughts of a nice meal dashed as she looked helplessly to the sky. "Thank you," she began, but the man had already left. 

 

* * *

 

 

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders falling as he leaned on the table. His eyes bounced from mission to mission, the weight of the work ahead of them heavy on his mind as a headache pulsed dully in the back of his head. Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine had left early, each taken by their own business, but Astraea still lingered, leafing through paperwork.

"Hey," her voice cut through the silence, the ruffling of pages falling silent. Cullen looked up to see her green eyes glowing softly and trained on him intently, a sure sign of her interest. A small blush fought its way to his ears, despite his best efforts.

"Yes?" he asked, standing up straight. He tended to move into a guarded position when she spoke to him, but the usual edge of minor hostility was gone from her voice.

"I, ah, was watching you train the recruits today. I think you made that little girl very happy. It was kind of you." Astraea was carefully choosing her words, and they were soft. It was as if a different person had emerged, her shoulders relaxed, lips parted a touch instead of pursed as usual.

"Ah, well. That. She reminded me a bit much of myself to turn her away. It's good to see children invested in their future." He cleared his throat, darting his gaze back to the table. He didn't mean to reveal that bit of information.

"You were always eager to be a templar?" Her eyes were brighter now, rivaling the candles that lined the table.

"I was eager to protect my family," Cullen replied, still occupying himself with the map. He didn't want to ruin the moment by meeting a potentially unhappy stare.

"My cousin is a templar, I think he feels the same. It's admirable, you know, the dedication," Astraea complemented, a small smile crossing her face. Cullen finally glanced at her again, and he was surprised to see her looking at him with a mix of admiration and curiosity. This was highly unusual, he thought, and he wondered if someone else returned from the Hinterlands in her stead. Astraea let out a huff of breath, uncrossing her arms and letting them fall to her sides in defeat. "I owe you an apology, Commander- er, Cullen." Her voice was lower than normal, informal, gentle. It was the first time she'd addressed him by name, he noted. "I've not been the kindest person since we met, or the most open minded. Your perspective isn't one I'm used to, but I disregarded it, and that was wrong. My hostility towards you, my previous comments...They were insensitive and based in fiction. I misjudged you. Are you willing to start with a clean slate?" She was hopeful, eyes searching his face for acceptance, and she extended a hand across the table. Cullen swallowed, then nodded.

"I'd like that, Astraea, a great deal. I'm apologize as well, for similar reasons- and thank you for giving this a chance." He shook her hand, and it was the first time they touched. He hoped the peace would last.


	6. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astraea really just wants to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short!

Cullen sat at his desk with his head in his hands. The cracking in his skull was mental, but he could almost feel nails driving into his head as the migraine he'd been nursing worsened. The papers on his desk were cluttered and crinkled, the candle flickering low as wax dripped onto the stick. He watched the slow progress of the wax, off-white and scented lavender, as it pooled along the tarnished brass and followed the divots of the swirled design. He told himself he'd work until the flame went out, but as the commander looked to his measly pile of finished paperwork, he knew it would be necessary to light another. With a heavy sigh and another press against his forehead, Cullen leafed through the stack to see if any of the forms could be finished quickly. A heavy sheaf of parchment caught his attention, paper usually only used in the field. He didn't remember any reports coming in that day, but it wasn't sealed with the traditional Inquisition symbol; instead, it was a stylized horse head, its mane whipped into what he assumed was wind around the border. The Trevelyan Crest. With an irritated groan he made a note to lecture the message-runner on proper mail distribution. It should've gone to Josephine. All the same, Cullen broke the seal with a dagger and unfolded the letter. To his surprise, it wasn't from the Trevelyans of Ostwick, but Astraea, and it was specifically addressed to him. He knew they'd been getting along better since Astraea's return, and they had trained the soldiers together a bit, but nothing to warrant something so personal. The envelope was still heavy, something remaining in the folds. He dumped the contents out, and a bundle of rosemary and braided grass fell across his papers. "What..?" He mumbled, confused by the herbs. Traditionally, dried plants were a sign of affection. He turned to the letter, skimming through to find some explanation. It was full of updates on how the soldiers accompanying her were doing, offers of alliance from sympathetic Orlesians, short rosters of supplies being sent back, all well and good. It wasn't until the end that Astraea elaborated on the contents.  

 

>  "Cullen, I heard from Cassandra in passing that you're occasionally struck by headaches. My brother suffers something similar, and he had an herbal remedy that would do a great deal of good. I know you've probably tried this before, and I suppose it's rather redundant for me to offer, but you should try burning some of the leaves I included. I found rosemary and sweetgrass along our campsite, I hope it helps. Oh, and I also pressed a dawn lotus in there, it's supposed to help with focusing and energy. I'd advise against burning that one, Cassandra thought it would be wise... It attracts insects. Anyway, Josephine and Leliana always get flowers in their letters, I figured it would be fair to send one your way. Don't overexert yourself, no one else there is qualified to round up the children who want to play knight. 
> 
> Warm Regards- Astraea"

Cullen quirked his head to the side, eyes flitting between her flowing script and the dried plants on his desk. He saw the white petals of the lotus beneath the dark rosemary, and he sighed. Her attitude reminded him of his older sister, always trying to help. He felt part of the burden of the night lift from his shoulders at her concern, his back relaxing. Cullen noticed that her writing was more informal now that she'd settled into her role in the Inquisition and finally set herself on equal ground to himself and his companions. It was a pleasant change of pace, to see her finally acting like a proper leader. Cullen looked to the slowly dying fire across the room, its light flickering as the embers glowed, and he decided it was time to rest. He gathered a few of the herbs and blew out the candlestub, leaving nothing but the crackling coals and the moon to light his small room in the Chantry. The moon was bright outside his window, the cool glow gentler on his eyes than the firelight, and he used it's light to toss a few of the dried leaves into the fire. He had indeed used remedies like this in the past, but it was always difficult to find time to pick the plants, and the task had seemed too frivolous to bother mentioning to Josephine. When the smell of fresh, sweet hay and gentle rosemary wafted through the room, it was enough to lull him into a tired enough state that he ignored the pain in his head, dressing for bed and resting better than he had in awhile. 

 

* * *

 

 "So, the Herald sent you a letter, did she?" Leliana quipped as she stood by the table during their meeting the next morning, a small stone crow turning in her deft fingers. She didn't have to look up to know the commander's reaction, she'd seen how he rubbed the back of his neck when embarrassed.

"And how would you know that, unless you've been prying? Which is what you do, I suppose, so disregard that," Cullen grumbled. _'What happened to the squeaky little bard that had charged up Kinloch Tower with the Hero of Ferelden?'_ he thought, ignoring the way Josephine hid a small giggle.  _'Women.'_

 


	7. Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An active imagination is healthy, right?

Astraea's hunting party rode into Haven as the sun set, a large bear carcass dragging on a sled behind them. The Herald herself was lingering in the rear, observing her three friends as they chatted in the quiet of Haven's surrounding forest. She'd spent enough time in the Inquisition to make a few more friends than just her inner circle- when she invited Sera hunting the first time, the elf had turned her nose up at the thought. "Too elfy," she'd scoffed, then made eyes at the barmaid in the Singing Maiden. Varric had changed the subject quickly, and Solas... He recommended that the stew not be made of frozen meat. One of her companions caught her attention, his voice drawing her gaze. 

"Good haul, eh Eva?" an Antivan jested, his words directed to the slim, dark elf who perched on an elegant chesnut mare. The Herald recalled where she found her- in the midst of a forest on the way back from Val Royeaux, stringing up an Inquisition scout and interrogating him. Eva was a Dalish archer who abandoned her clan when they decided to run from the Breach, and Astraea found her mysterious attitude almost alluring.

"Quite, Dane. Your powers of observation astound me yet again," she called back, her vallaslin crinkling into a smile despite her tone. She slowed to match his pace, and Dane grinned. The Antivan faux-pirate was a friend of Josephine's, as much as the ambassador called him a friend. He'd attempted to join the smuggling rings of Antiva's underground and subsequently ended up on the wrong end of the Montilyet's influence.

The man who was dragging the sled pushed his horse between them, interjecting "Yes, but you're all forgetting that  _I_ shot the thing. You should be congratulating me, not yourselves." His voice was thick with an Orlesian accent, as was his overzealous swagger. Markus was the most ridiculous of the three, an Orlesian nobleman whose family had kicked him out for being too crass. They were a wily group, but Astraea found their recreational hunting trips to be extremely relaxing. 

"And 'Straea did all the real work. Hush, Markus, you're quibbles are going to give me a headache," Dane dismissed. They jabbered the entire way back to the village, Astraea watching quietly. She hadn't felt entirely well recently, but her blood had been stirred by the hunt (and the near miss of claws near her face), and she was in the mood for a drink. 

"Shall we drop this off with the cooks and see what trouble we can stir up for Flissa?" Astraea asked, quieting her friends as she trotted up to them.  

"Sounds lovely," Eva nodded, and they split up to shed their gear and stable the horses. The cook was pleased with the bear, less so with the skinning and gutting, but he promised a hearty stew in return, and he was even happier when Astraea gave him the pelt. She made it into the Singing Maiden as night fell, and Astraea wasn't shocked to see that her group was already a few ales deep into their dinner. She was surprised, however, to see Cullen and Knight-Captain Rylen sharing a drink at the next table over. She snagged a drink from Flissa and went to sit with her partners, an idea forming in her head. 

"Gentlemen," Astraea purred as she swept by, a mug of ale in her hand, her armor replaced by a set of warm leather pants and a deep blue Free-Marcher styled blouse. Cullen swallowed quickly as her full hips bumped his chair in greeting, struggling to find words. 

"Lady Astraea, good to see you," Rylen smiled, his eyes watching Cullen choke on his drink. Astraea quirked an eyebrow as she leaned against Eva's chair and faced the men, sipping from her mug as if it were a fine wine. 

"Are you alright, _Commander?"_ She smirked, her voice a bit more suggestive than she'd intended, drawing glances from her hunting party. Eva knew what was going on, she'd had this conversation with Astraea a hundred times. Astraea hid her blush with a heavy swig, looking for a quick distraction.

Cullen finally found air and took a deep breath, glad that the redness on his face was hidden by the flush from coughing. "I'm quite alright, thank you. Are you and your friends done romping in the woods?"

"Romping? Excellent word choice. Since when did you make jokes, Cullen?" Astraea retorted, her eyes sparkling with mischief. 

"The commander tends to find his humor at the bottom of a mug of ale. Or in this case, two," the Free Marcher replied, making Astraea laugh. Cullen rolled his eyes at his second in command, a twinge of jealousy that Rylen made her laugh. He tried to form a witty retort, but nothing came to mind, so he grumbled quietly and frowned.

Eva, bored by Markus and Dane's idiotic antics (they were trying to sword-fight with forks), elbowed Astraea. "Stop flirting with the boys and take care of your stupid children. They're going to fall out of their seats." The elf pulled out the chair behind Cullen and motioned for Astraea to sit, which she reluctantly did. Her arrival finally registered with the two men, and they greeted her in unison. The Herald nodded in acknowledgement, her attention still pulling to Cullen and Rylen. She turned her chair to talk with both tables, occasionally glancing at Markus and Dane to ensure they didn't stab each other's eyes out, and began her plan.

"Well, while we were 'romping,' as Cullen so aptly put it, we brought home a bear for stew. Have either of you had bear stew?" She inquired, sweet curiosity dripping from her words. Rylen shook his head, and Cullen did the same. "Figures. I imagine it's difficult to kill anything and keep it edible when you only have a sword to work with," she replied dismissively, a teasing smirk on her face.

Cullen made a displeased sound, setting his empty mug down and shaking his head. "You think bows are superior? I'm sure you know you're wrong," he replied.

"Oh? You don't even know how to use a bow. At least I know a bit about handling a blade," Astraea countered, her attention turning to Cullen specifically.

"What makes you think I can't use a bow?"

"Oh, I don't know, the way you shot the other day during training was abysmal enough to convince me."

"And your so-called 'handling' was just as... abysmal. Honestly Astraea, I thought all nobles learned how to duel."

"I know how to duel!" 

"Right. And I know how to hunt."

"So you admit it! You don't know how to hunt!" Astraea leaned forward, catching Cullen in his own words. Rylen laughed, entertained as much by her tone as her brightly glowing eyes.

"As I recall," Cullen snorted, "My ability to use a bow was in question."

Astraea dismissed the point with a wave of her hand, ignoring his smirk. "I have to teach you. Tomorrow we'll go find a nice hart to chase, we'll see how well you ride a horse while we're at it."

"You're qualified to give me advice on that too, hm? Next thing, you'll be trying to convince me that you're a chevalier," he retorted, and Eva cackled. She was enjoying the conversation as much as Rylen.

"I," Astraea took a deep breath, her second mug of ale landing on the table with a thud, "Am a Trevelyan, a horse-lord from Ostwick, and I am damned well qualified to teach  _anyone_ about horses. If that makes me a chevalier, then ainsi soit-il!" 

Markus made a gagging noise from across the table- "That was the worst Orlesian I've ever heard!"

"Oh, nobody asked you," Astraea huffed, and Cullen chuckled. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, secretly pleased with the plans for tomorrow. 

"Then you can drag me into the forest, but only if you practice swordsmanship next time Cassandra insists it's important. Because it is," he insisted, and Astraea reluctantly agreed. The group eventually retired to their quarters, Astraea humming the Starkhaven tune Rylen taught them.

 

* * *

 

 

The woods were coated in a fresh snow that blanketed the trees with quiet- the air was still and crisp with the smell of early morning frost, and Astraea almost regretted disturbing the pristine white surface of the powder. She'd tied up her horse nearby, Cullen following her lead as the tracked their quarry on foot. She'd noticed the signs of a herd as they rode out into the valley, strips of bark chewed clean off of the barren oak trees that stood tall and stark against the clear sky. She misstepped on root hidden beneath the snow and stumbled, one hand reaching out to catch herself as she inevitably landed face first into the cold, soft snow. 

"Are you alright?" Cullen asked, suppressing a chuckle as she picked herself up. He offered a hand to help her, and Astraea took it gratefully.

"Physically, yes. My pride? Perhaps not," she replied, but her words were cut short when she realized that Cullen hadn't let go of her hand. He was staring at her with a look she couldn't pinpoint, and she blushed in uncertainty. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"You're beautiful," he murmured, the sight of her flushed from the cold and frosted in snow taking his breath away. Astraea opened her mouth to speak, but a small squeak was all that escaped her throat. Cullen tugged her closer, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other releasing her hand and cupping her cheek, his fingers brushing away a stray strand of red hair. "I... I've wanted to tell you that for a long time." His voice was huskier now, and Astraea found herself warming up from her core to the tips of her ears. 

"Cullen?" She breathed, her gaze flitting from his lips to his eyes, the intense amber of his irises drawing her in. She settled her arms around his neck and leaned in, smelling sandalwood and sweetgrass-  _'He used the herbs'-_ unsure of what to do; all she knew was that she wanted to be even closer to him. Cullen pressed his solid figure against Astraea and dipped her back slightly, her name the last thing she heard before he kissed her. Astraea was sure she'd catch on fire right there, magic or not. He tasted wonderful, everything she'd imagined and more, and when his tongue slipped between her lips, she moaned softly. Her hips rolled against his, pleasure spiking through her body- Maker, she nearly melted-

A sharp sound made her eyes snap open. She didn't recognize the snow, the trees. Another rap, this one like a fist on wood. The surroundings weren't there anymore; it was sliding away, the moment, the heat, the wonderful feeling.

"Herald! Breakfast!"

Astraea groaned as she woke, her fingers rubbing the sleep and sand from her eyes. The door to her small cabin opened as Laurel strode in with a steaming bowl of porridge, cinnamon and fresh cream filling the room with a delectable scent. She set it on the bedside table and bowed slightly to Astraea in greeting. "Good morning, my Lady! Did you sleep well?" the woman asked as she went about lighting a fire and opening shutters.

"Extremely," Astraea replied, sitting up. She felt the slick wetness between her thighs and sighed- she'd had a dream like that the night before as well, and it made her feel juvenile. And it was about Cullen, no less. That made her face heat in embarrassment. The commander, the man who she'd been arguing with not two months before, was reducing her to helpless fantasies. 

"The commander mentioned you were to go hunting today. I believe your schedule is clear for that, if you are still going. You don't leave for the Storm Coast for another few days." Laurel always kept tabs on Astraea's schedule, and the ginger woman grinned. 

"Laurel, what would I do without you?" Astraea asked as she took a bite of her breakfast- it was delicious, as always. 

"Oversleep, my Lady. Do eat quickly, it's far too late for you to be in bed."

"Yes, Laurel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'ainsi soit-il' - 'So be it'


	8. Snowfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Personal space is just a convention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a sucker for the teacher trope tbh

Astraea stood in the doorway to Cullen's room, which also functioned as his office. The entire way she'd been trying to shake the dream from her mind, push the false taste of his lips out of her mouth, calm her thoughts; it hadn't worked well, and now, as she leaned on the door frame, it took all of her control to avoid undressing him in her mind.  He hadn't heard her arrive, and she took the moment of quiet to watch him work. His brow was knit in concentration, the quill pen scratching against paper- he pressed a bit hard on the page. She wondered how many papers he'd accidentally torn, then turned her attention to the rest of the room. The bundle of herbs she'd sent had long since been burned, but she noticed a new braid of sweetgrass on the mantle of the hearth, the smell of rosemary wafting from the coals. His bed was sparse and clean, not cluttered with the furs and pillows Astraea had taken to throwing across her own, and the table lacked the curiosities and scented candles that she was fond of. It was entirely too spartan for her taste, but it matched its inhabitant, she supposed. What caught her attention the most, however, was the full bookshelf along the back wall. Astraea raised an eyebrow; she didn't know he was such a prolific reader. Her gaze finally settled back on Cullen, his broad shoulders hunched a bit as he wrote, the fur collar of his armor as fluffy as ever- it made her smile. 

"Are you just going to stand there?" Cullen asked nonchalantly, not looking up from his work. Astraea jumped a bit, then flushed a deep red. She didn't know he was aware of her presence. She fumbled for words for a moment, finally making him look up at her, one eyebrow raised.

"I was just- I mean- Ugh. Do you still want to go hunting?" She wrung her hands, her eyes flitting away from Cullen's intent gaze. A small grin crossed his face, and he began to stack his papers into a neat pile.

"I would, yes. Are you ready to go?" He noted her dress, fur and leather, but no metal. "You're not really wearing armor."

Astraea was snapped out of her embarrassment by his comment, and she shook her head. "Cullen, you can't wear armor to go hunting. You'd scare off the prey with all of the clanking," she laughed, and he frowned. She was teasing him again- it was becoming a regular occurrence. Perhaps Varric had gotten to her, told her to make a few jabs. 'You spend too much time with a frown on your face, Curly,' the dwarf had jested, to which Cullen frowned, naturally.

With a sigh, he stood and straightened his mantle, shaking his head. "Then I suppose I have to change. This is ridiculous."

"Some of us grew up hunting our food rather than growing it," Astraea mused, now leaning on the door frame. She was tall enough to take up most of the entrance, and he appreciated her silhouette.

"Unfortunate. I'll meet you at the stables, I'll be down shortly," he replied dismissively, waving her off.

"Right, don't dally too long, or you'll waste the daylight!" Astraea cheered, turning on her toes in a graceful circle. Cullen frequently found himself admiring the ease of her movement, and he wondered how she trained for such smooth steps.

"I'm not the one who overslept!" He called after her, but she was already gone. He shook his head, glancing out the window to see the sun high in the sky. There was no way they'd stay out the entire day. He rummaged through a trunk for the clothes he wore casually- he didn't have that many, Cullen was mildly surprised to find. He'd worn Templar armor most of his life, and the armor he wore for the Inquisition was specially made, and apparently not suitable for hunting. He made a face at the trunk and dug deeper, finally finding what he was looking for- heavy dark linen, leather, and light fur. They were a bit stiff when he put them on, but he figured the clothing would relax as he wore it. On his way out of the Chantry, Leliana caught him, her expression mischievous; Cullen braced himself. 

"Commander, you're going hunting?" She asked, a sly smile quirked on her face. 

"Yes," Cullen sighed, "the Herald insisted, so I'm going, despite my workload-"

Leliana snorted in laughter, interrupting him. "Astraea just wants to get you out of your office. If you were truly that invested in your paperwork, you'd have turned her down. Keep your eye on the prey, and try not to shoot the Herald on accident." She winked, then waved Cullen away, leaving him a light shade of pink. He wasn't sure what she was insinuating, and he didn't want to think about it.

By the time he made it to the stables, Astraea had already saddled up two horses and found her hunting bow, and she greeted him cheerfully. 

"I figured you'd do best on a Ferelden Forder. They're damned good horses, and they're comfortable," she explained as she tightened straps on the sturdy mount. It nickered softly, and she pulled a sugar cube from one pocket- "Hush, Canter. He's not as heavy as he looks," she whispered, patting the horse and grinning at Cullen.

"I'm going to ignore that. What are you riding?" He approached Canter slowly, as he hadn't met the horse yet and knew that they needed to acclimatize a bit. 

Astraea finished tying off the saddle and walked over to her horse, lovingly stroking his snout. The horse was well built and pure black, it's eyes as curious as Astraea's. "This is Nocte. He was my mount from home, Mother sent him here with a few men from the family guard, she knows how much I love him. He's a stallion from our personal stock, and I was the only one who could break him; granted, now he's quite well-behaved. Nothing a bit of training can't help, isn't that right baby?" she cooed, planting a kiss on her horse's snout. Nocte whinnied, and Cullen could see how close they were- he ran a hand along the sleek black coat of the horse, and felt its muscles ripple- he didn't want to be on its bad side. 

"I've never seen you ride him into battle," Cullen commented as they walked to the makeshift armory. 

"Oh, I'd never put Nocte in a situation where he could get hurt. Do you have a bow?" She was plucking weapons from the wall, weighing the wood in her hand, then putting them back with a frown. Cullen shook his head, and she groaned. "This is always difficult. What draw weight are you looking for? Guided or unguided aim? Osage, Yew, Ipe?" 

Cullen stared at her as she prattled off specifics and wood grains, the words starting to go over his head. His templar training had covered the technicalities of archery and basic shooting, but templars tended to stay within their disciplines.

"Astraea." Cullen tried to get her attention, but she was on a roll. He watched her hands move as she spoke, grand gestures and twisting fingers, the mark flickering as she got excited. 

"Well, there's also the matter of what bowstring you want to use, and if you want long or short-"

"Astraea, I don't know," Cullen was louder, and she paused, finally taking a deep breath.

"Oh. Wait here." She shuffled on her feet for a moment, then grabbed a simple bow with a light wash. She grabbed stringer and sinew, then began stringing the bow. It was quick and smooth, her practice obvious. "Yew is good," She explained as she worked, "and the string I use is the best I've had. You're not experienced, so a shortbow is probably best. Here, draw this." She handed him the weapon, and he pulled it into a full draw. The weight was slightly lighter than he expected, but it felt good in his hands. 

"This should work well for hunting," Cullen said, pleased. Astraea clapped her hands, a grin on her face, and rushed him out to the horses. 

"Shall we?" She asked as they mounted, and Cullen gestured for her to lead the way.

 

* * *

 

The ride out to the forest was easy, Canter showing himself to be an even ride. Astraea couldn't stop thinking of her dream, hyper-aware of Cullen riding next to her, the broad lines of his body outlined by the trim leathers and fur. She pushed the thought of his hands on her waist to the back of her mind as she looked to the sky, reminding herself of reality. The weather was different than her dream, snow gently drifting from soft grey clouds. Still, the forest was peaceful, and Astraea was pleased to be out with Cullen.

The Commander wasn't used to the calm of riding- he usually marched with the soldiers, but he very much enjoyed the quiet ease that horses brought. He looked over at Astraea periodically, watching her search for prey with a sharp eye. The snow had settled on her braided hair, her cheeks were red from the cold, and her eyes were shimmering gently- he found her fascinating, so at home on a horse, a small smile on her face. It was difficult to look away. 

"It's wonderful out here, isn't it?" Astraea breathed wistfully, brushing her hand over a low-hanging evergreen branch. 

"It is," Cullen agreed, watching the snow fall from the needles. "I see why you like hunting so much- it's calming."

Astraea's gaze shifted to Cullen, a coy grin spreading across her face to match her tone. "Good company makes it better."

"Yes, you've mentioned how much you love your horse a few times," he joked, chuckling softly. Astraea blinked, staring blankly at him as she processed his comment.

"Was that a _joke_? My, Cullen, I didn't know you drank so early in the day!" Astraea covered her mouth in feigned shock, her expression bright with laughter. Cullen rolled his eyes at her, and she giggled in amusement. The sound was new to his ears; she'd never giggled before,not that he'd heard, even in the tavern after a few drinks. It was an uneven sound, the end of her laugh quirking into a high note as she breathed in, her eyes squeezed shut as she grinned toothily. He found it intensely... cute. She took a deep breath and calmed down, her gaze returning to the forest. "You're too much fun to tease, you know," she mused, drawing an disgruntled grunt from Cullen, who blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.  He watched her push her horse forward as they forged into the thicker, older woods, her balance sure and true, her braided hair swaying softly. He barely managed to pull his eyes away from her silhouette.

 _'Keep your eye on the prey.'_ Cullen recalled Leliana's jab, and his blush reddened.  _'_ _Maker's breath,'_ Cullen thought, _'this is going to drive me crazy.'_

Astraea stopped them abruptly after a few minutes of quiet riding, motioning frantically for silence. She pointed to the east, stopping Nocte and dismounting. Cullen did the same, handing Astraea Canter's reins. She tied the horses to a tree branch and grabbed her bow and quiver, passing Cullen's to him, and she notched the tree with a hunting knife. She pet the horses before they set out, Cullen not seeing the quarry Astraea was so intent on finding. He looked closely over her shoulder, trying to make as little noise as possible as they crunched through the snow. He had no idea how she managed to stay quiet as they trekked through four inches of powder, but somehow she moved like a wolf between the trees. Cullen noticed her notch each tree they passed, a subtle trail back to their horses; on most of these trees, there was also bark peeled back from the trunk. She seemed to be following the bare patches, weaving from tree to tree, the commander sometimes rushing to catch up. Her hand blocked his path as they crested a small hill- below, a small herd of young bucks were tearing bark from the trees. Astraea moved for her bow, then paused to look at Cullen. 

"You go," she mouthed, tilting her head towards the deer. Cullen looked at her with distress, his shoulders falling as she indicated her seriousness with a stern glare. With a quiet huff he pulled an arrow from his quiver and leveled the shortbow at one of the bucks, drawing back a full shot. Astraea balked at his form, predicting the trajectory- it was way off. She waved a hand in front of his aim, drawing his attention. 

"What?" he asked silently, and she shook her head in frustration. She moved to fix his stance, but her hand hesitated over his arm. 

"May I?" She was waiting for his permission, and Cullen swallowed. Their closeness felt more intimate now that she'd drawn attention to it. When he nodded, Astraea gently pushed his drawing arm down. She moved closer to him and put her hands on his shoulders, lowering them into a more natural position, then pushed his feet apart with her own. She was behind him now, on her tip-toes and leaning on his back to get an idea of his view. Cullen could feel her press against him, her chest against his shoulder blades, and he tried to focus on the deer. Lavender and honey hung sweetly in the air around her, and he tried to commit the scent to memory- it was light and warm. When Astraea was satisfied, she moved to his left and caught his gaze, her eyes a deeper shade of green than they were before. He wasn't sure what her expression was, but up close, he could see how her freckles stood out against her cold flush. He held her stare for a moment, watching the colors shift in the depths of her irises, the greens and yellows flickering like embers. Her lips parted for a moment as if to say something, but she shut them and turned to their target after a heavy pause. Astraea extended her arm and wrapped her gloved hand around his, the touch sending a shiver down her own spine. She knew she was being daring, but Astraea was enjoying the proximity too much to stop. His presence next to her was better than she imagined, the way he smelled, the way he felt- she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and press her lips to his. Their frosted breath mingled in the air as she guided his aim, and with a soft squeeze, she indicated that he was ready.

"Release," she breathed, and Cullen loosed the arrow. He let the tension in his muscles go with the string, his body riveted by her closeness. Astraea was still next to Cullen as they watched the arrow strike its target, and the buck fell. The other deer scattered, and Astraea let out her held breath. "Excellent!" she exclaimed, finally stepping back from the commander; she was trying to find a way to divert her gaze and hide the hot blush that glowed to the tips of her ears. Her skin was burning beneath her clothes, and the cold was doing nothing to quell it. 

"Well, that went well," Cullen managed, finally finding his words. He missed the warmth she brought, and the rift left by her departure felt wrong. "Your, ah, assistance was appreciated."

Astraea shrugged, jogging down the hill, calling back "It was nothing!" She was overcompensating with her tone, her sarcastic shell hardening quickly. Cullen followed her, worried about her sudden change in attitude. Had he been too forward with the eye contact? His concern shifted to her speed as she picked up momentum; his fears were confirmed as she tripped on something beneath the snow, and with a squeak, she face-planted into the ground. 

"Astraea!" He was worried, stopping close by. Astraea growled into the snow angrily, not bothering getting up- she was embarrassed enough to die. 

"Just leave me here," she groaned, and Cullen grinned. She was fine, obviously, and the humor of the situation quickly became apparent. He started chuckling, eventually laughing as she dragged herself up. Astraea was covered in snow and twigs, leaves stuck in her hair. "Ugh. This is so typical. Just ask Cassandra how often I trip when we're hiking, she probably has a tally. Years of dance training, and I still can't stay upright!" She threw her hands in the air before she brushed herself off and picked debris from her hair, eventually giving up on the endeavor. She pulled the tie from her hair and bent over, flipping her waves upside down and running her hands through the strands, shaking the mess from it. Cullen watched, his head tilted slightly- it was intriguing. She stood back up with a flourish, her hair flying back over and into a fluffy mess. She tamed it quickly, and Cullen was taken aback- she looked much different when it was down; softer, older, more... noble. With a disgruntled huff, she walked over to the buck. "Let's get the deer and go back to the horses. That was a clean shot, I'm impressed," Astraea nodded to him in respect, and he inclined his head in thanks. Cullen felt pride in the kill, even though it was mostly Astraea's work.

"I'm sure it will make a fine dinner. I'm glad we did this, it was far better than paperwork," Cullen said as they tied the deer up, and Astraea smiled. 

"I hope we can do this again sometime," she proposed, and he nodded. Perhaps he hadn't scared her off. Still, the ride back was free of flirtation, and Cullen wondered if she was truly just showing him how to shoot. 

He didn't know that she was preoccupied with the thought of his lips on hers, his body pressing her into a tree, their prey abandoned.

 


	9. In Hushed Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Redcliffe Castle has some nasty secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh, the music during this quest is like, the best in the game.

It felt wrong. Dark and twisted, out of place. Astraea voiced as much to Dorian as she pulled dungeon keys from the waist of a dead Venatori mage, yanking the ring free from the damp leather belt. "We have to make it back, Dorian," she stated, shoving her shoulder into the now-unlocked iron bars. The mage hummed in agreement, brushing cobwebs from his shoulder.

"We really must, it's quite disgusting here. The decor isn't even the worst part." His tone was nonchalant, but he was hiding a great deal of anxiety. If Alexius was only capable of sending them into the future, uncontrolled, how could he hope to send them back to the past? He figured it was best not to voice his concerns, as his new friend seemed worried enough.

She sighed, her gaze fixating on a large outcropping of red lyrium that seemed to grow from the very walls. "Decor indeed. This is red lyrium, but... I've never seen it in such quantities. Or with such a strong aura. Do you taste that?" She was referencing the revolting taste of the lyrium, hot and thick and too much like blood. Her mark shied away from it, the feeling in her hand almost painful- it was like nausea, but she couldn't quite describe it. 

He nooded, and they continued on through the decrepit stone halls. Tapestries, ripped and fraying, swung gently in a breeze that didn't seem to exist, the strands trailing over the crumbling mabari statues that lined the path. It seemed like the castle was in a state of ruin, and that didn't bode well. "Do you think we've been gone that long, or are these people just that bad at taking care of their fortress?" She asked, trying to lighten the mood. 

"I would say both, but I doubt that would help. Do you hear that?" Dorian paused next to a heavy wooden door, then pushed it open. Astraea followed curiously, and was was surprised to find Dorian in front of a cell, a true look of horror on his face. There, in the very back of the small stone room, was the Grand Enchanter. "Fiona!" The Herald began to unlock the door, but the elf coughed out a protest. 

"Do not come close to me, Herald. I am infected with red lyrium," she warned, and Astraea paused. She looked closer and realized what the mage meant; her entire lower body had been replaced with shards of the glowing red crystal, and her eyes were all but blazing red. 

"Maker," Dorian breathed, finally breaking his silence. "What happened? And what year is it?"

Fiona groaned, shifting in her crystal tomb, and began with a wheeze. "9:42 Dragon. After you disappeared, Herald, the true power behind Alexius reared its head... The Elder One."

"It's been a year...?" Dorian questioned, but Astraea hushed him. 

"The Elder One, Fiona?" She asked, almost whispering the title. It sent a shiver down her spine.

"Yes, young one. He is unstoppable, a force that none of us could have imagined. His army swept across Thedas and- and-" She coughed, a dry rattling sound that made Astraea cringe. Something crunched inside of the mage when she moved again, and Dorian flinched. "He destroyed it all. The Breach grew with his influence. Please, Herald, you must stop him. You must stop  _this."_

Astraea wrapped her hands around the bars and nodded, replying with conviction. "I swear I will. This future shall never come to pass, Grand Enchanter."

"Good. Go, with the Maker's blessing. Find your companions, they are down here somewhere." Her voice was weak, and it took all of Astraea's effort to tear herself away from the cell. As they left the small dungeon room, Dorian shook his head.

"It's a mess, Astraea. This whole thing is a nightmare, and these poor people are living it. I can't image what it must feel like, to have those crystals growing through your veins." He trailed off as Astraea shuddered, realizing his thoughts were probably bothering her. "It's not your fault."

The tall woman stopped, her steps splashing as she turned to face him. "It is my fault! I- I didn't handle the situation with Alexius properly, and now all of these people- all of Thedas- is suffering for it!" Her voice bounced off of the stone walls, and Dorian frowned.

"It's not real, Astraea, we can stop this from happening! We can change this future," he implored, but she shook her head.

"It's real to them!" She was starting to lose her temper, and Dorian began to understand how stressed she really was. In fact, she seemed utterly terrified. He stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention. Her eyes were a brighter green than he'd ever seen, yellowing tendrils snaking their way around her pupils. That wasn't good.

"And we can stop it by getting back. Breathe, Astraea. We can do this," the mage said calmly, and she took a deep breath. Her heart rate began to calm down, as did the ever growing sour taste of magic from the mark. She closed her eyes for a moment, regaining her composure. She'd been so good about it lately, but being in this future... it had her on edge, more so than anything she'd encountered. With another slow exhale, Astraea turned around, now even more set on her task to change their fate.

"Yes," she assured herself, "We can."

 

* * *

 

There was one door left in the small dead-end hall Astraea and Dorian had wandered down. The castle was a maze, and they had yet to encounter any of their companions. Sera and the Iron Bull had to be around somewhere, and Astraea was hoping this would be the right door. As she pushed the door open the damp wood squeaked, swollen and mildewing from the moisture of the dungeons. Astraea didn't see anyone at first, but she did hear something over the sound of water dripping down the walls. She focused on the sound emanating from the back of the room- it was a voice, and she thought she could make out prayer. 

_Cullen._

Astraea bolted to the cell and fumbled with the keys, barely looking in through the bars. She knew it was him, knew the familiar rumble of his voice, the same prayer he always recited in times of strife. She'd heard as much in the Chantry. The door swung open and nearly off of its hinges as she flung it to the side, kneeling before Cullen to get his attention. "Cullen? Cullen, it's me. It's Astraea," she pleaded, but he didn't open his eyes.

"You cannot tempt me, demons. Not with her form, not with her voice. Leave me to my pain," he barked, the effort of speaking so forcefully making him cough. Dorian caught up, a question on his lips, but it died as he saw the situation.

"I'm not a demon, Cullen. It's really me. Alexius sent Dorian and I into the future with his time magic, but we're here to stop it! To defeat him and return and keep the Elder One from coming to power." She was explaining to Cullen as much as she was bolstering her own confidence, and Cullen finally raised his head. His eyes opened and regarded her with suspicion, irises red and orange with lyrium poisoning. His lips- they were dry, she noticed, dry and cracking and bloody- pressed together as he stared her down, and she kept his stare, unblinking. She saw incredulity, then recognition.

"Astraea," he breathed, and she sank to her knees in relief. He dropped his head again, this time balling his hands into fists against the dusty ground. "You're alive. After all of this, you're alive. Thank the Maker. Alexius has locked himself in his throne room and thrown us all here to be lyrium farms. He's trying to break Leliana, and Josephine- she- died honorably." Cullen was already falling back into the comfort of reports and order, the only way he knew how to control his emotions. Astraea nodded, listening as well as she could, but as he carried on with a summation she stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"Cullen, you don't have to exert yourself like this. Can you stand? I'll help you," she offered, and he shook his head. Cullen leaned into her touch, making her move in closer to support him. He felt feverish, even through her leather gloves, and Astraea knew he was going to suffer the same fate as Fiona. The red crystals were already in his blood. He knew it, too.

"I can't. Astraea, I- I tried to get you back. We assaulted the castle three times before I was captured. The Inquisition never gave up. You would have been proud of our soldiers." He was looking at her again, this time letting his emotions get the better of him. His face was paler now that his resolve was slipping, and Astraea felt her heart break a little.

"Oh, oh. I'm so sorry," she cooed softly, unsure of what to say. She was conflicted, overjoyed to see Cullen alive but devastated at the state he was in. "I swear to you this will end. And you won't know a thing about what happened. I should have listened to you."

Cullen quieted, recalling their conversation before she left. He remembered it clearly, the number of times he revisited the memory in the endless hours uncountable. It was the only way he could see her.

 

_The sun was just breaching the Frostbacks, glimmering on snow and ice. Astraea was packing her horse's saddlebags, dressed in heavy furs over her armor. Cullen had found her before she left, wanting a moment of privacy. "You know he's going to try and kill you," he said, and Astraea nodded, not bothering to turn.  
_

_"Do you always greet people so ominously?" She teased, but her voice was shaking._

_"Only if the occasion calls for it. You must be careful, Astraea. I- The Inquisition needs you here." He caught himself, hoping she hadn't noticed the slip-up. It was partially true though; he'd come to enjoy the cheerful attitude she brought to the Inquisition, and he enjoyed their work training the troops together. It wouldn't be the same without her._

_"Right, without the mark we'd all be rather out of luck," she joked, and Cullen sighed. She was deflecting her fear with humor again. Cullen stepped closer, almost breaching her personal space._

_"Promise me you'll return," he asked, and Astraea blinked in surprise._

_"Always, Cullen. This is my home now, I wouldn't leave it for the world." They were quiet then in the soft morning light, watching the sun rise over the peaks, their silence speaking volumes more than any words could. Then the others arrived, and Cullen bid her farewell. He felt a sort of finality to it all. It hurt._

 

"You will return to that past, Astraea. But before you go, I have a request," he asked solemnly, and she nodded. 

"Of course, whatever I can do."

"Kill me before this... this disease claims me. I've seen what it does to the other prisoners. I thought regular lyrium sang loud enough, but this- it screams. My heart still beats, but I will not let it beat for the Elder One's use." Cullen knew he was asking a great deal, especially given Astraea's overly-empathetic personality, but he knew she'd do it. She had to.

She was silent for some time, and Dorian knew the request was a heavy one. In his short time in Haven he'd seen how much they cared for each other.

"Alright." It was a simple word, but the weight behind it meant more. She pulled a dagger from her belt, a long, thin blade. Cullen thanked her quietly, his hands brushing over hers for a moment, and she pulled him close into an embrace. The tip of the blade hovered at his back, but she couldn't do it. She knew it was going to help him, but it still shook in her hands.

"Astraea," he murmured, tightening his hold on her, "You're going to be fine." His voice gave her solidarity, and she braced herself. 

"Andraste guide you, Cullen," she murmured into his ear, pressing her lips to his temple as she slid the knife swiftly into his heart. He tightened, a small gasp escaping his lips, then slumped into her arms. The wound didn't bleed. When she finally stood and turned to Dorian, her cheeks were wet with tears. "No one hears of this."

"I wouldn't dream of telling them." 

 


End file.
